


Gradually

by SoiledRainbow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Zayn Leaves One Direction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoiledRainbow/pseuds/SoiledRainbow
Summary: How a person leaves you, how they put an end to the time you spent together, that says enough.You can't judge someone for leaving, but you're allowed to feel upset for the way they do.You're also allowed to still love them long after they've gone.(Based on the real events of when Zayn left the band somehow, though not exactly. Unless Zayn and Harry is a real thing, which is cool.)





	1. The Day Before

The subtly yellow light illuminates Zayn's and Harry's face as they stare into each other's eyes, Zayn's arms slung around his waist and Harry's arms draped around Zayn's shoulders. Harry is playing with the slight stubble on his chin, and he scrunches up his eyebrows at that.

"Harry, baby,"

Harry grins, showing off the deep crease of his cheek. He knew how to use his dimples to his advantage, to either reel in a new catch or just a compliment from Zayn. The light bouncing off of the mirror also casts a shadow making his muscular imperfection seem even more deeper than it already was.

"What?"

Zayn pulls his hand away from his chin and towards his lips, brushing it against the golden jewelries on Harry's fingers. _Oh, the irony of dimples. A genetic defect, yet it creates perfection._

"Don't play with that. I- I get irritated."

Harry giggles softly, his green eyes beaming, focusing on beautiful hazel eyes.

"Oh, is the Bradford Bad Boy not in the mood today?"

Harry says teasingly, waggling his eyebrows. Zayn's eyes are simply, utterly _marvelous_ up close. Otherworldly. _As if it holds a universe of its own._ He leans in, their foreheads touching.

"I'm just tired. Five years of touring is taking a toll on me, love."

And he notices it. Notices the missing glint in Zayn's eyes. His smiles didn't make crinkles anymore, not like they used to. And Harry enjoys assuming things. And he assumes that maybe Zayn just hadn't have a good night sleep in so long. He's just as much artistic as he is an art, and artistic minds rarely sleep.

They hold each other against the clumped interior of the restroom.

"You'll miss it when it's over."

And Harry lives for these moments; for comfortable silences between them, sharing emotions and breath and skin and love and - life. Zayn inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a minute or two and swallowing past the lump in his throat, gripping Harry as firm as he could, memorizing his curvatures. He studies his face like he always does, etching it into his memory. He reckons he could sketch it without a reference now.

"I'll miss you."

Harry stills at that. Holds his breath. He disentangles himself from their sweet embrace, deciding to trace the littered tattoos on Zayn's arms instead. He looks at Zayn and releases a humorless laugh. It's true, what the fans said about them way, way back in their career. When they were younger and the world was unfamiliar territory to all five of them. Zayn really is quiet and mysterious for the most part. You can't always crack the enigma of his mind. It was never easy - for Harry or for anyone, as a matter of fact - to understand Zayn. However, Zayn understands everything and everyone. Or maybe he just appears to do so. Maybe he just wears a mask for everyone to see him as this fearless, free-spirited soul when actually, he's just as confused and as afraid as all of us are. As Harry. Harry speaks softly, his voice coming out in a raspy whisper.

"But we'll never be over, Z."

Harry's sure of that. He's made a solemn vow to all gods before and after him that he will do anything it takes to keep Zayn. He's threatened every deity to even _dare_  set them apart. He's promised to Zayn, too. Not outright, of course. He's promised him through little gestures everyday. Through sweet nothings whispered to his ear every night, while they're both cuddled up in one bed, stripped down to their boxers under the duvet.

"You're my rock, Harry."

Zayn Malik isn't a man. Or if he is, then he must not be an ordinary one. Sometimes, Harry can't even believe he's real. Sometimes, he's afraid that he's dreaming, that Zayn's just a fragment of his hopeless romantic imagination. He's afraid that maybe he's just an angel that God sent on a mission, and that maybe one day He'll take him back. He's afraid that someday, somehow, someone or something will take Zayn away. He's afraid to lose Zayn, and he's afraid that maybe, _just maybe_ , Zayn isn't afraid of losing him.

From his perspective, Zayn isn't afraid of anything, really. He loves him, with his very whole heart, without judgement, nonetheless.

Zayn bites on his lower lip, one hand climbing up to Harry's mane, massaging his scalp, which makes Harry mewl. Harry's wondering, though, what's in Zayn's mind. But he wouldn't ask him. He wouldn't get an answer even if he tried. Zayn's reserved that way. He's tried before but that got him nowhere further than blank stares and bitten lips.

"Oi! You two knobheads step right the fuck outta there or I'm throwing your luggage out, you hear me?! Plane's landing in twenty and I almost pissed my pants waiting on you!"

The lovers shuffle around as they fix themselves up. Unlocking the door, a furious Louis is revealed who swiftly zips through and lifts the toilet lid.

"Fuck's sake! What did you two do in here? Couldn't wait 'til we landed to have a quickie?"

Zayn mutters a "fuck you, man" while going back to their seat, Harry taking his seat on Zayn's lap like he always do, Niall and Liam seating beside each other across them. The other boys didn't mind them - they've always been very close ever since they've known each other. That's even before they got grouped as a band. They had the same thoughts, the same struggles.

Unluckily, the same gender as well.

"-white sand beach, with very very fine sand."

"But that's a densely populated area from what I've heard, with skilled pickpockets and hordes of tourists and - hey, Zayn? Niall here's suggesting we go visit the beach, what was that called?"

Niall has one of his legs perched up on the table while scrolling through his mobile with both hands, probably checking his twitter DMs. Zayn thinks about it for a second, rubbing at the nape of his neck, before answering Liam's question and joining in their conversation as well.

An attendant passes by and places a glass of whiskey in front of Zayn, in which he thanks her for it.

Harry hears Zayn's mobile ring and he reached for it in his pocket. Zayn allows him to, not wanting to cut Liam in the middle of his sentence just to stop Harry.

He has three missed calls and a couple of messages from an unsaved number.

Harry presses on the iPhone's home button to unlock it, knowing Zayn's pattern password, but to his dismay it has been changed to a complex one. He leans in to his ear to whisper.

"Zayn, someone's been texting and calling you these past few hours, why aren't you answering any of them?"

That wasn't what he actually wanted to ask. He always, _always_ knew his password. He'd tell Harry that he got nothing to hide, nothing to hide from Harry, anyway. Then they'd have a good laugh after that. So what's changed? What is Zayn up to that he had to change his password to keep it from Harry?

"It's nothing, Harry, don't stress your pretty little head over it."

Niall gulps down the remaining whiskey from his glass and places it back onto the table with a loud thud.

"Bro," he looks at Zayn, and then averts his gaze to Harry.

"Bros. I'm Irish, and I've seen some real homophobic shit go 'round in our town but I fuckin' swear if you're both gay I'm supporting you. I mean, what's with the PDA? You beat Liam and Sophia, and you know how showy this motherfucker right here is."

He elbows Liam lightly on the rib, earning him a glare.

"Ain't nothing's wrong with lovin', aye?"

Liam rubs at the spot where Niall elbowed him, muttering a curse under his breath. Harry grins at Niall, flashing him his pearly whites.

"Niall, if I had a dollar everytime you asked us that, I'd give world tours for free and I'll earn my living off of you."

It was obvious. Liam would never admit it, but he thinks it, too. He just respects their privacy. Louis and Niall, on the other hand, being the loud and nosey fuckers they are, can't just keep their thoughts to themselves. Zayn and Harry wasn't always lovey-dovey like this. They must've fallen for each other, along the way. It's either they can't admit it to themselves, or they've already had and they're just keeping their relationship a secret for god knows why.

The shared beds. The jokes that only existed between them. The hushed whispers. The cuddle sessions. The similarities in everything they do. How they look at each other and finish each other's sentences.

The thing is, everyone knows already. Harry knows, too.

It's Zayn who doesn't.

As soon as they skipped down the steps of their plane, Zayn sped up away from the group, talking to someone on his phone. Harry tries to catch up to him but was only able to make it halfway through. Zayn had only packed very lightly while Harry has two duffel bags.

"Hey mate, what's up? Having a lover's quarrel, aren't we?"

Louis hangs his arm over Harry's shoulder, having to reach up a little considering their height difference.

"He's acting weird, Louis. I don't know. Do you think he's alright?"

"Eh, must be something going on at home. Or, you know, the typical problems. Homesickness, culture shock, all that jazz. Nothing you can't fix with a little help from my friends on the shelves of bars and pubs."

Harry sighs. No one could crack the enigma of Zayn's mind.

>>>>>

It's the warning that no one takes seriously. A sign that something's not right. And you ignore this warning because you think it's not possible. It can't really happen, right? They can't expel you just because you commit a major offense according to a student's handbook. They can't tow away your car just because you're in a "strictly no parking" space. You can't really die just because of smoking. You laugh with your friends about this, sometimes. It couldn't be _just like that_.

Zayn can't really just leave them, right?

It was astonishing for everyone, even for the One Direction team. Popped out of nowhere. They just came, for Christ's sake. Fresh from the plane. Less than 24 hours in the Philippine atmosphere. Harry has been sipping the same cup of tea in Liam's room for two hours, barely speaking, with a distant look on his face, lost in his thoughts. He repeats Liam's words earlier, not yet able to fully take it in.

"Zayn's asked for a plane back home. Our team don't know the specifics, they weren't involved in the request. Weren't even informed until it was too late, said they were called by an agent and was told that Zayn is not fit to work due to stress or something like that."

They were all pretty surprised, too. Louis was just getting dressed, ready to pull Zayn with him to run away to the nearest club. Niall was quick to check on his twitter account.

"Shoot, the fans are not liking this. Is Zayn bloody mad?"

They've gone to their designated rooms now, except for Harry. He always shared a room with Zayn. It became a habit. Early on, they had to pair up because only three rooms were given to them and Harry and Zayn always shared beds. They never grew out of it and asked the management to pair them up all the time after then.

Liam knew that Harry wouldn't be able to sleep in his own room tonight, so he set up the couch in his.

"Hey, Li, thanks. You didn't have to do that."

Liam takes away his cold cup of tea and pats Harry on the back.

"Ah, no biggie. Anything for you, Harold. Sorry 'bout the news, though."

Harry lies down on the couch, snuggled in a blanket. He already misses Zayn's warmth.

"It's kinda not news, anymore, though, is it?"

Liam takes Harry's previous seat, leaning back. He's drowsy, he can feel his body fighting to be awake. Normally, he'd be sleeping already, following through with his daily health habits which includes him getting the right amount of rest. But Harry looks like a typhoon refugee who has just lost his home together with his whole family; he looks exhausted although he isn't doing anything other than thinking of Zayn.

See, Zayn's the most difficult person in the band. He joked about leaving the band more than a few times. He had the most absences, and he didn't like to participate in most interviews. He looked forward to visiting a new club rather than actually singing onstage. He drinks too much, sleeps too little, and just last year his habitual use of marijuana was publicly revealed and it became an issue.

None of that mattered, however. They're a band; a family. One may not like the doings of another, but that doesn't mean they don't love each other. Liam reaches for the remote control on the table top, turning the television on and licking his lips before talking to Harry.

"Harry," he thinks twice, even thrice about it before opting to continue his sentence, not wanting to upset Harry with such a sensitive topic but not wanting to remain clueless about it either. "you don't see him as just a best friend anymore."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, as if Liam is just telling Harry that he doesn't have to say it; they know it already. And Harry smiles at that.

"He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Liam nods and forms a tight-lipped smile, squeezing Harry's knee, letting him know that what he's feeling is valid and he supports him. He doesn't tell Harry that he has an inkling, though, an idea, that perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps Zayn doesn't feel it truly, madly, deeply, the same way Harry does.

>>>>>

The dark circles under Harry's eyes are an exact indicator of how Harry was feeling inside. He loves the country, really, and he meant it when he said that the crowd was amazing. But Zayn hasn't texted or called anyone while he was away. After two concerts, the other one spent under the rain, and answering people's questions about the band and Zayn's disappearance, Harry is officially tired and would like to have some peace and solace.

Before stepping into the lift, Liam was pulled away by one of their organizers leaving the four boys behind to go up to their rooms. Niall tries to peek through the elevator doors as they're closing. Harry frowns.

"Where's that off to, now?"

"Lemme guess, hmm, I'm not sure. Let's see," Niall rubs his chin, thinking of the past events, "who was that guy who ate a burger thrown by a complete stranger from the crowd who could possibly be a terrorist sent to assassinate us or bomb the venue-"

"You got a problem with me, Horan?"

"Why does Liam always get shit for what you've done? It's not his fault your dimwitted ass always manages to break a protocol."

"Oh, are we making a big deal out of that cheeseburger now? The fans loved it, I loved it, McDonald's lovin' it, so get over it already."

"Management's probably scolding Liam for that bloody dumb thing you did and that's what you tell me? Whew, no wonder your ass is that big, your head's fuckin' deep in it! Need someone to pull it out, Tomlinson?"

"Oh you ballsy cocksucker-"

Some of their crew prevents the both of them from going at each other's throats, their banter never stopping even as they got out of the elevator, their voices only getting louder.

"Tell Liam I'm heading to my room, thanks." Harry says to no one in particular, and no one's probably heard him either, too caught up in holding Louis down who's trying to swing his fist at Niall.

Harry gets into his room, shutting the door with force. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in by the bedside table. Earlier today, they were joking around the stage, looking for nuggets and cheeseburgers when a fan actually threw one at them and Louis took a big bite out of it. Normally, they'd all be called down to the office for a meeting to remind them of the possible threats they may face and the procedures to avoid these, but during certain circumstances they're just going to have to discuss things with Liam. Liam, then, will be the one to discuss the issue with the others. With Liam gone to take care of matters, Harry is left alone.

He taps his phone a few times, pondering if he should give Liam a call, just to ask about how things are going. He checks his messages, too. He knows for himself that Liam will call him after he's done with management, that's the kind of guy Liam is. He senses someone's distress, he takes care of them, then he nurses them back to health. He's a good guy. Things are better for Harry with him always around. But, well, sometimes he isn't.

It feels weird, all alone in a hotel accommodation. He doesn't feel like the place is his. It still feels like it's _theirs_. _Like it has always been; theirs._

Then it hit him. This is the first time he'll spend a night by himself in another city. He had Liam to accompany him the few previous nights. Now he vividly feels it. The reality of Zayn's absence. The intrigue. The pain. The sadness. It's real, and it hit him hard. He feels so heavy with the weight of it. So much, that he just threw himself on his bed wondering if it was something he did or something he said or if it was him at all.

Has Zayn found out? Has he realized Harry's not-so-platonic love for him? Does he find him unattractive? Annoying? Not enough? Zayn wouldn't just leave due to stress, fuck no. You don't fly the fuck where you came from just because you're stressed out. He feels mad at Zayn for a moment.

He rolls around, placing his palms on his forehead, willing himself to think of anything other than Zayn. But of course, the opposite happens. It's like when you tell yourself not to think about purple elephants. He closes his eyes in frustration.

Zayn was the only one who could help him through tough times.

_What he never realized, was that Zayn was going to be his toughest time yet._

His phone vibrates and he retrieves it with his eyes closed, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hi. I was just dozing off."

There was shuffling and far away sniffling on the other line. Harry sat up, caught by surprise.

"Liam? Is that you? A-are you crying?"

There's a sound of, like, a cloth. Liam might be wiping his nose.

_"No, mate. Don't worry about me." Sniffle. "Ugh, this is humiliating. 'm sorry."_

"Why? What's wrong? You can tell me. Want me to come over to your room?"

_"No, no. Harry, do you know? Has anyone told you yet? Have you been online?"_

Knots form in his stomach and he feels like throwing up.

He has an idea, an inkling.

He thinks he knows it already.

But he doesn't believe it. He wants to be wrong.

He just wants Zayn to come back.

Is it too much to ask for something great? 


	2. Jakarta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The few hours after officially being announced a four-piece, to everyone's dismay and total shock.

News of Zayn leaving the band broke out that evening, sending everyone into a frenzy. Except for Harry, no; he slept it off. He was hoping it wasn't real, that it was just a misinterpretation of what Zayn wants and that everything's going to be settled by dawn. So he dozed off for six, seven, eight hours - he doesn't know. He overslept, a poor attempt to compensate for the time he spent overthinking. 

He wished he never woke up.

He feels nauseous, acidic, he feels bile rising up his throat - he feels suffocated, his lungs rummaging for oxygen, the flesh behind his rib cage in great pain, against the loud beating of his heart, reaching a point that's almost deafening to his ears. It feels like his worst hangover, only a thousand times worse. _It feels like being hung over Zayn._

When Liam opened his door, he was already bursting into tears on the middle of the bed with a blanket over his shoulders and a pillow hugged tightly under his arms because _the love of his life just left him like that and didn't even bother with an explanation or a goodbye._

The way people leave you explains enough. 

"Harry, Harry, shhh. Hey, buddy, everything's going to be okay."

Liam softly crawled into the bed with him, wrapping his arms around the sobbing boy, expressing his sympathy. 

"He- Liam, is he gone? I-I-I can't, he can't, it can't be true, Li."

His chest is heaving and his throat is raw from crying too much for too long. Liam tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, tries to comfort the boy, tries to ease his suffering though he isn't sure how to ease his own. 

"We were just _talking_ , he should've told me about it; should've mentioned something, I should've known, Liam, I should've done something, _shit_ , I-I should've, I s-should-"

It's painful for Liam to see him like this. He could feel him breaking; his shoulders are soaked with torrents of tears from the boy who only wanted to be with the person he loves. Harry holds back a sound between a sob and a shout. 

It's difficult to describe, how one feels after being left without a word. It's confusion, like when you leave your pen on top of your desk and you _swear on your life_ that you left it there but you can't _find it_. But it's more than that, _sadder_ than that. It's more along the lines of _losing_ something, like being _robbed_. Maybe it was partially his fault. Maybe he led himself to believe that he could keep whatever they had forever. It was preposterous of him; to fall for Zayn's persistent charm, to let him pull the right strings in Harry's tender heart, and now, to suffer in a state of desolation. 

He willingly invited Zayn to steal his time, his feelings. And even if Zayn took it all, Harry would still kiss him goodbye. 

"You're allowed to feel hurt, Haz."

He purses his lips and takes deep breaths to stifle his own sob as he rubs Harry's back. 

"We all are."

>>>>>

Harry doesn't eat. He barely drinks water, and Niall just yelled at him for "fucking yourself up because of a fuck up" in which Louis stepped in and stopped him before he does anything he regrets. 

"What the fuck crawled up your ass, Horan? Look at the guy, he hasn't uttered a single word since this morning and here you are feeding him a mouthful of swear words that could make your own mother cry!"

Niall throws his hands up in the air. 

"Fine, call me when he's gone, too."

He exits the hotel room, leaving Liam and Louis with Harry.

After Harry has calmed down a bit, Liam asked the others to come with some food and water, and talk about the recent events. You could already hear Louis and Niall bickering at the hallways even before they got there, the two boys taking the news rather poorly, too. 

"Jeez, clearly he's got some issues of his own to resolve. He's been snappy in the flight either. I apologize on his behalf."

Harry merely nods. 

"Hazza,"

Louis plunges a leg onto the space behind Harry, followed by the other and positions them to an Indian sit, mimicking Harry's. He slots his hands into Harry's, encasing them in a firm hold. 

"be strong for us, alright, mate? We've already lost one, we can't lose you too."

Harry smiles a bit at that.

"Thanks, Lou. I'm gonna be fine."

Liam stands up from the bed and walks to the land-line, pressing the telephone against his ear right away and pressing a digit. 

"I'm calling room service, you two want anything?"

"A stack of waffles with syrup and a side of kale and spinach for our resident sad healthy-living curly here."

"Anything else?"

"Tea, chamomile, preferably. But anything works fine. With sugar and milk. Just tell them to bring the pot over."

"Okay, Lou. That all?"

"I think I still have a bottle of Jack Daniels back in my room but be a real sweetheart and ask for one up too, will you?"

"Uh, okay, that should be enough."

"I don't know, but I've been craving for a shawarma these couple of days lately."

"Shut up, Louis."

"The last I had, which subsequently is also the best so far as my taste buds have been blessed with anyway, was in Lebanon and that was light years ago."

"Okay, you're just doing this to spite me."

Louis gasps dramatically. 

"I would never!"

Louis could've died with the knives Liam's eyes seem to hurdle at him. 

"Okay, don't ask for shawarma. But fish and chips, please? That's the last one, I swear."

Liam rolls his eyes and busies himself with the attendant. Harry's amusement was evident in his face. 

Louis removes one of his hands from Harry's grasp to poke his dimples. 

"Hey there little buddy, I was afraid Harry might have sucked you in, long time no see."

Harry smiles wider at that. Louis never failed to make him smile. He was there to cheer them up whenever one of the lads were feeling a little under the hood. He swatted Louis' hand away yet the boy continues to press on and talk to his dimples, sending the curly headed boy into a fit of laughter.

He loves Louis, loves all of the lads equally. And he was truly happy in their presence. 

However, they cannot fill the void that Zayn left in his heart, and mind, and soul. 

In all of theirs, really. 

Louis holds Harry's face in both his palms, effectively cutting his thoughts. The lad scoots closer to look at Harry in the eye, his legs slotted between Harry's and their torsos having little space in between. 

"You know, if you don't want to go on later, it's alright. We've got your back. You can go take the day off and we'll handle everything for you. Sounds good?"

Harry looks down, pursing his lips, releasing a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"I can't do that. To the fans. It's unfair. They're heartbroken enough."

Louis' lips turn into a deep frown, his eyebrows knotted in concern while he gently caresses Harry's cheeks. 

" _You're_ heartbroken enough. If anyone has a right to complain, that's you."

He laughs humorlessly, hooking a forefinger under Harry's chin to lift it up, seeing his own reflection with enough clarity from how glossy the boy's eyes are. 

"Not that you're complaining, are you? I mean, even if the fans are right and Zayn _is_ joining ISIS, you'd still write ballads and love songs about him."

Havoc wreaked after Zayn's departure was announced, most in a series of 140-character texts; skyrocketed to the top of the trends in a matter of seconds, worldwide. Everyone looking for someone to blame, for a reason. There's Perrie; how she's become the "Modern Yoko Ono". Then there are the more outrageous ones; ISIS inviting him for their next terrorist attack, Modest! Management firing him for alcohol and substance abuse, Modest! again, conjuring up this publicity stunt to increase sales with the intention of bringing Zayn back in the next couple of months. 

Harry grins, albeit minutely. 

"I doubt he'll do that. He's going to get dirtied up. Zayn is vain, remember?"

Louis cackles at that. He's momentarily taken back to the good times, to the countless blithesome memories he's shared with the rest of the boys. The video diaries, the guestings, the interviews, the good 'ol days. 

Louis isn't cynical, but he thought the entire concept of the "good 'ol days" was only sentimental bullshit.

Until today. 

Liam joins them, and they stay for room service.

"Gon' take them a couple minutes, they said. I had, like, given them a grocery list with all the food they're bringing up."

"Awww, Leeyummmm! You're an angel! Come here, you," And Louis digs his fingers to Liam's sides, sending him into a fit of boisterous laughter. 

"Stop! Stop! You're even worse without Zayn around!"

Harry looks down on his hands, reminded of that fact, once again. 

"Hey!" He stops his tickling to point a finger at Liam. "I am _better_ with or without him! This is Tommo! And we don't need no Pakistani to keep going, we are _killing_ it. Nobody can drag _us_ down."

Liam's laughter died down and he looks at Louis incredulously, a small smile left on his lips.

"Hmm, I like how that sounds. That would make a good song. But you do know that we are going down after the tour and the album, right?"

Now it's Louis' turn to give an incredulous look, mouth hanging ajar and face contorted in disappointment.

"Wha'?"

"Oh c'mon, Louis, not like, _down_ down, you know, the break. We've been told by everyone, we've discussed that in meetings, we've -"

Louis fists his hands, groaning frustratedly.

"I know, I know. But damn, I didn't think you were actually counting down the days, Liam."

His face is almost comical, depicting an image of utter disbelief, looking back and forth between Liam and Harry as if he's waiting for one of them to oppose and say they're having as much fun as Louis is and they don't want to take a break. 

"Harry! Back me up on this one, you're not _actually_ excited for that. I thought no one is!"

"I'd like to audition for a film role. I think I could act." Harry croaks, his voice raspy. 

"So we're really going on a hiatus? You really want that?"

"Yup. Don't _you?_ "

"Hell _no_ I don't!" Louis exclaims, emphasizing the no with a head bang. "I can't believe you guys. What am I going to do?"

"That's on you," Liam says with a shrug of his shoulders. "I might go home for a while and then get started on some solo projects."

"Oh, so we're talking solo projects now?"

Three knocks echo throughout the room and Liam stumbles off the bed to the door, saying he'll get it. 

At this point, Louis has a blanket bundled up under his face as he purses his lips, staring at an invisible speck on the wall, in a stupor of dread. 

"Boobear?"

Harry's met with no response. 

"Are you thinking about the hiatus?"

Louis angles his face towards Harry's, but avoids the latter's eyes, deciding to look down on the intricate patterns sewn into Harry's pyjamas instead. 

"Yeah, Harry. I just didn't think that no one minded."

He picks at his toenail, which is pointed right at the intricately designed pyjamas of Harry's that he was observing before. 

"You'll reach great heights in every endeavor you decide to partake in, Lou. I know you can for sure."

"No you don't, Harry. You don't."

Harry sighs heavily. This is expected of Louis. He may seem bold and daring with his childlike persona to the rest of the world, but the resemblance to a child doesn't stop there; he's also hypersensitive and easily attached. He often proclaims his affection for the band, how he's so lucky to be in it and that he wouldn't change anything for the world.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, to comfort Louis' fret, to assure him that he's as good as Harry, as good as everyone else, that he _can_ do anything. He wants Louis to know the esteem he feels for him, because Louis may not be saying anything at all but Harry is aware of the lad's self-deprecating image of himself stuck inside the dark corners of his head. 

Before he gets the words out, though, Liam is already on the foot of the bed with the trolley of goods and is handing over a plate of waffle-y heaven to Louis. 

"Come on, enough with the hiatus and the," Liam makes quotation marks in the air, " _normal 22 year old_ and let's just have a good goddamned morning."

Louis loosens up again, grabbing a waffle with his bare hands which earns him a glare from Liam, who scolds him. Louis replies with ludicrous remarks, making light of the situation and they go through the day with good-natured banter and lighthearted chitchat. It distracts Harry for a while, prevents his mind from drifting to thoughts of Zayn. And that's what they're all looking for, presently; a temporary distraction from the person they considered to be a permanent aspect of their lives, until he isn't.

>>>>>

_It's his smile that seems to reach his crinkling eyes, exuding this aura of positivity and excitement of the great unknown that is unraveling before them in such an unnatural fast pace. He has his hands raised, lifted up either side of him, like that of the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Brazil. Twirling around, running to and fro, sitting down on the bleachers now and then to feel the cushion under his fingers which sends a jolt of joy through his spine and before long, he's giddy again, skipping and hopping and jumping about._

_They're all dancing to the beat of their own pulses as they exhilaratingly anticipated the gaiety the future has in store for them._

_"Well, you're happy."_

_He skids in his tracks, still bouncing with enthusiasm._

_"This place is fucking huge, Harold! I mean, sure, it didn't look small at all but this feels different. It's amazing."_

_They're feet apart, but no one minds. The arena is empty except for them and some of their crew, anyway. It feels like an ocular inspection for a grand vacation they had planned; the delight the expectancy brings. But this is far better, for this is what their lives are to become._

_"I believe amazayn is more befitting."_

_Harry has his curls hidden underneath a dove grey bonnet and his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans, putting one foot down in front of the other, delicately, as one would do in a church on worship day._

_"You dolt."_

_The dim lights easily capture Zayn's attractive facial points, highlighting his jutting cheekbones and subtly glistening over the bridge of his nose, reflecting off his satin lips and ivory teeth._

_"You're never this happy."_

_Zayn reaches for his hand, pulling it out from the shelter of Harry's clothing and filling the spaces between its fingers with his own._

_"We're nobodies no more. We should be ecstatic."_

_They stand there, in the middle of the vast stadium, hand-in-hand, a feet apart. Green eyes fixated on the pair of hazel ones, the yelling of others in pure enjoyment muffled in the background as they are entrapped in their own little world where they are the only two people._

_"There could be no higher form of ecstasy than what I feel every single second I am with you."_

_An air of tranquility envelopes them, emptying their consciousness of everything but the details of the here and now, infiltrating their every sense._

_The stars were the prettiest that night as they laid down beneath the night sky on the vacant lot outside the massive structure, where Zayn has dragged him to, with interlinked fingers and ambitious youth._

_They bathed in the comfortable silence, looking forward to the rest of their lives, oblivious to the possibility that they may be painting two different portraits. Zayn has his lower lip drawn between his teeth, his arms behind his head, and his eyes connecting constellations, blissfully unaware of Harry's boring into him. But that's okay; the corners of Harry's lips are quirked up, nonetheless._

_They have slept in the same bed, and have taken care of each other's needs. Harry would always get up earlier, though not necessarily wake up; he'd wake up to Zayn sitting upright and toying with strands of his hair sometimes. They'd eat breakfast, then they'd talk for hours and hours on end, about everything under the sun. He's learned so much about Zayn and have appreciated his art at the highest extent. Zayn's admired his dreams and hopes, and always made him feel adequate, complete. He has filled a gap in Harry's soul that he didn't even realize was there in the first place._

_"You were never a nobody to me, Z. As a matter of fact, you might just be everything."_

He would've loved the stars tonight. If only he was here.

Once a tear escaped from his waterline, trickling down his face, the rest follows; the steady stream of liquid falling down his cheeks leaving a shimmering trail and a cogent longing for the boy from Bradford. 

He bursts out crying in front of a crowd of hundreds of people. 

He tries to stop it, tries to act normal, wiping at it with the back of his hand. _For the fans_ , he thought to himself. _Hold it in for the fans_.

He missed his cue, but someone else took it and Liam was beside him as he looks up. 

"Harry, you good? Wanna take a break?"

"No, no, I'm good, I'm just- I'm good. Just needed a minute, I promise."

"Okay," Liam nods, his forehead creased. "Okay. Still singing Diana?"

"Definitely." He sniffles, wrinkling his nose. 

His throat is burning, knees wobbling, lips quivering, but he sings. 

Louis lets a few tears slip either later on, even slinging an arm around a figment of his imaginary mind, as if Zayn was there. 

They can't help it, with Zayn gone. It feels like the little death you feel when you tip a chair back just a little over, or when you pat your pockets looking for your phone when it's in your bag. They even forget, sometimes. Niall was waiting for Zayn to come out from the backstage, done with his toilet break. And Liam saw a funny sign, and looked over his shoulder to call on Zayn and have a good laugh together, only there were just three guys with him. 

It feels like a little death, only the chair tips all the way back and you fall to the ground, in crippling pain. 

Zayn leaving feels like a little death. 

They're just human, after all. With varying strengths and weaknesses. 

Unfortunately, Harry's strength and weakness is one. 

He rests, exhausted, in the car ride back to their hotel, though he can't close his eyes or his mind will go back to creating illusions of his memories of _him, with him_. 

So he just places his forehead against the glass, looking at the skyline, muttering under his breath. 

"Is it so wrong, that you make me strong?"

**Author's Note:**

> Still getting a hang of the editor, this being my first work. If you got this far, I am sincerely grateful, thank you.


End file.
